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PoetryRepairShop
Contemporary International Poetry
issue 9903:47
Joshua Beavers
QUEEN JOSEPHINE
Her hair is black
Her nose is plump
Her warts are bit
Her breath is harsh
As are her words
But she is hurt and left alone
To sit on her throne- a couch
And wallow in her pain
Poor Queen Josephine
No one to love?
Tragic?
No, she brought it upon herself
She chose this way
So she could be called
Queen Josephine
(©1999 all rights retained by author)
PoetryRepairShop - Contemporary International Poetry ©1998,1999 (9903:47)
 
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